


Bonedriven

by micehell



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-21
Updated: 2007-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-12 00:58:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/484845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micehell/pseuds/micehell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>I was wrong and I will wait...</i> (Bush, <i>Bonedriven</i>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bonedriven

**Author's Note:**

> Set post-ROTS or pre-ANH, depending on your preference. ;)

Sometimes, when the days got too long, and the nights too lonely, he'd let himself remember. Big hands, with long fingers, that would trace over his face with such care. That wicked tongue that would tickle the arch of his foot, the back of knee, the tip of his cock, tracing all the way down. 

He would remember that first time, when he'd laid himself bare emotionally, and Qui-Gon had laid him bare physically, and he'd come three times before Qui-Gon came even the once. It had been embarrassing, and fantastic, and almost too intimate to take, to have Qui-Gon's hands in him, tongue in him, cock in him, all so large, pushing him to his limits, pushing him over them. It had hurt, more than he'd thought it would, but he'd hidden it, as best he could, until it had become obvious even to someone as aroused as Qui-Gon had been. He'd actually stopped, pulled back, taken care and time, even when he was shaking with need, and just that alone had made Obi-Wan relax, open himself to the penetration, until it encompassed more than his ass, more than the cock in him, everything narrowed down to that sensation, that need, all of it whiting out as he felt Qui-Gon come inside him. 

Those were the best days, when the memories were tender. There were other days, when the bitterness came to visit, sitting beside him in the shadow of the cloak on the wall. On those days he'd remember the end, when they'd been fighting. When Qui-Gon hadn't taken care at all, all teeth and dominance, and Obi-Wan had pushed back against him, pushing down onto that same cock with a dominance all his own, needing the pain and the tang of blood to show his own displeasure. He'd felt ignored, even while Qui-Gon banged away inside him. All Qui-Gon's stubborn nature, his blindness to his own faults even while he was quick to point out Obi-Wan's, was running rampant, facing down the Council and his apprentice as if their opinions were worth no more than the whore Qui-Gon was treating him like. 

When those days passed, when the bitterness faded, Obi-Wan would remember his own hand in what had transpired, would know that he gave back as good as he got, and then he would think of the in-between times. When they'd laughed in bed as often as not. When sometimes they'd need each other so badly, they'd take stolen moments in closets off of meeting rooms, the brush of a hand underneath a table. When a caress and a kiss, both full of knowledge only gained by touch, by experience, would be enough to make even the most boring of meetings bearable. 

It was those days that were the worst, really. Because they were the bulk of his time with Qui-Gon. Neither a first, nor a last. Not a best, or a worst. Just day to day, the things that made the bad times fade away. That made the good times all the better. It was those days that made Obi-Wan dream of what was to come, and wish that he could face Vader right that moment. That he could take his blade deep inside him, another penetration that he'd welcome. 

On those days, he'd look at the cloak that was his only companion, and dream of the end, and what it would begin.


End file.
